


The Big  Yeah

by Lysandra31



Category: Hunter - Fandom
Genre: F/M, First Time, Hotel Sex, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-21
Updated: 2013-08-21
Packaged: 2017-12-24 06:27:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/936489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lysandra31/pseuds/Lysandra31
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For McCall, twelve hours to a shift, in a hotel room with Hunter, was a bit much. Set during "The Big Fall" with references to "Rape & Revenge."</p><p>Note: This story is set during "The Big Fall" but contains references to McCall's rape in "Rape & Revenge," so feel free to skip it if that's something you want to avoid reading. Thanks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Big  Yeah

**Author's Note:**

> Title: The Big Yeah
> 
> Author: Lysandra
> 
> Spoilers: The Big Fall, Rape & Revenge
> 
> Thanks: To Syntax6, whose fantastic stories inspired me to watch the show in the first place, and who encouraged my smutty foray into Hunter fic and laughed in all the right places.
> 
> Note: This story is set during "The Big Fall" but contains references to McCall's rape in an earlier episode, so feel free to skip it if that's something you want to avoid reading. Thanks.
> 
> Email: Lysandra@socal.rr.com or Lysandra31@aol.com

Dee Dee was sick of this hotel room. It was nice enough, and better than sitting in a beat-up jalopy like they usually did when they had to keep an eye on a criminal, but she and Hunter often got to split up, go their separate ways, and cover each other when needed. Technically they were supposed to be together all the time as partners, but early on they'd made a deal about it. They could each pursue their own leads, and they'd back each other up when it counted. It hadn't failed them yet.

So twelve hours to a shift, in a hotel room with Hunter, was a bit much. They were used to being outside, talking to people, driving from place to place, not stuck in a single room for hours with only each other for company. A bored Rick Hunter was a dangerous Rick Hunter. He was a physical guy, and she was missing out on her aerobics classes because of this nighttime schedule. They needed a treadmill in here or something.

A few nights ago, Hunter had fed her a line about how his mom had taught him to cook Italian. McCall knew this was complete bull, but she'd gone along with it and sure enough, the next night he brought along homemade eggplant parmesan, which, she'd admitted, was delicious. She'd busted him when he called to thank his mom for making it. He still insisted he could cook, but she was extremely wary of his claims. Even if he hadn't made it himself, it was still a nice gesture. He'd even brought candles.

She wondered why he bothered to lie about it, though. They didn't lie to each other, not even about trivial stuff. There wasn't much point, really. Hunter was the only friend she'd been able to open up to after she was raped. She'd probably told him as much as she'd told her therapist, Anita. And he'd helped, just by being himself.

Well, he'd also killed the guy. That helped, too. She thought Hunter would have killed Mariano even if Mariano hadn't shot him first, so she was glad it went down the way it had. She'd never have forgiven herself if Hunter had ended up blindfolded in front of some South American death squad, or stuck in a Curaguayan jail for life, because of his need to avenge her rape. But the fact he'd done it meant so very much, even if it was possessive and macho on his part. She wasn't his to avenge, but she supposed if he'd had some male partner who'd been killed or beaten up as badly as she had, he'd want to avenge that too. That was just Hunter. Sometimes it was a little scary, how much he liked smashing things up.

He wasn't reading or paying attention to the TV. He just sat, jiggling his leg, driving her crazy. Sometimes he got up and walked around the room, stretching his injured shoulder. With his crotch at her eye level, in those jeans that left very little to the imagination. She hoped he didn't know what he was doing to her. Because if he did, she'd have to kill him for being such a tease. She could practically smell the testosterone coming off him in waves. The night of the eggplant parmesan, Fabro had come out of his hidey-hole and flashed them for some unknown reason. And all she'd been thinking, looking at his little flabby dick, was _wrong guy _. Hunter was standing right there. Why was she seeing Fabro's cock and not Hunter's? Life, it wasn't fair.__

It had been ages since she'd had sex, real sex. She didn't count the rape, of course. That was violence, not pleasure. She wondered what it'd be like, making love again. What if she couldn't handle it? What if it brought up those memories? That was the last thing she'd wish on Hunter - _Oh God, what was she thinking?!_ All he was doing was pacing. He wasn't thinking of having sex, and if he was, his thoughts would probably go to some young blonde cocktail waitress.

Dee Dee knew he found her attractive; he'd made it clear enough times, the way he eyed her up, down, and all around. Once when she'd been undercover as a hooker, with her vital parts barely covered, he drove up and wolf whistled, jokingly offering her a hundred bucks. When she'd gotten in the car with him, he eyed her bare belly and noticed how high her skirt rode up, and she saw actual want in his eyes. But it had always been an unspoken agreement - it wasn't ever going to happen between them. They were partners, they wanted to remain partners, and partners didn't have sex with each other. Case closed.

Maybe she should call Anita. It was after hours, though, and this wasn't so much a psychological emergency as it was a case of an uncomfortable awareness of her sexuality. And Hunter's. She cursed that baboon Fabro for putting her in this position. He was sleeping in the next room, probably dreaming something disgusting, while she was stuck here thinking about shattering that unspoken thing and pulling Hunter's shirt off so she could kiss his chest. Maybe she was having these thoughts because Hunter was a safe zone for her. He'd taken care of her, they were friends, he'd seen her at her absolute worst after she'd been raped, and he still loved her.

"What is it?" Hunter said out of the blue. Had he read her mind or something? Jesus.

She put on her innocent face. "What's what?"

"You're acting weird, McCall. Are you … okay?" He had that worried look he got. She knew he was thinking about the rape.

"Hunter, I'm fine." Well, in the way he meant, she was, anyway. White lie. "I'm just tired of being cooped up with this Bozo" - she nodded toward the bedroom – "and we're stuck here for what, four more hours?"

Hunter paced some more, practically waving his cock at her. "Yeah, I'm antsy too. It's not like we have any choice. Wyler's probably doing a jig, he's so happy to have us holed up in here."

"I'd like to stomp on his dancing shoes," she said.

"There's an idea," he said. He turned off the TV and walked over to the radio, fiddling until he landed on a slow bluesy song. "Let's dance."

"Hunter…" she protested.

"C'mon, it'll be fun. Me and you, Fred and Ginger." He held out his hand. "Come on," he repeated. "It'll pass the time."

Her mind screamed at her, _Danger, danger!_ but her body obeyed Hunter. Before she could even stand up straight, he'd twisted her into him, whining when her head smacked into his chest, right where Mariano had shot him. "Slow down," she said, "before you hurt yourself." She pulled back to a more respectable distance and placed her hand on his shoulder, well above the wound. Turned out Hunter knew a thing or two about dancing, which wasn't much of a surprise considering what a ladies' man he was. "Did your mom teach you to dance like she taught you to cook?" she asked, rolling her eyes. "You seem to have picked this up better."

"Shut up and dance, McCall."

She leaned into him and let him lead. This was crazy. It wasn't exactly LAPD protocol, not that Hunter bothered with protocol in any case. Truth be told, neither did she. But this, this… they could do this if they were undercover, but not when they were alone. Even worse, they were alone and on duty. Dancing, for Pete's sake.

He'd found some radio station that played sexy saxophone music. Sexy song after romantic song after erotic song, and they just kept dancing. Though it wasn't so much dancing now; they were just holding each other and swaying. Her face was cuddled into his chest, right at the spot where she'd been thinking, earlier, of kissing him. Hunter always smelled pretty good, but she'd never spent such an extended period of time right up against him like this, and she really couldn't take much more. What had come over her tonight? She felt wild inside. This was really bad.

She decided to scare him off before she did something stupid. "So, Hunter, what is all this? You get me up here in a hotel room, feed me delicious homemade food, light candles, and now there's dancing? I'd have dressed up if I'da known this was a date."

He tensed up for a moment then relaxed, speaking to the top of her head. "If I ever took you on a date, McCall, there wouldn't be a lowlife slob in the next room. We'd be alllll alone, trust me."

"Thank God for Fabro," she said.

Hunter laughed and wrapped both arms around her. "He's a peach."

"A rotten one, maybe." She leaned back to look at Hunter, and forgot about teasing him. "I suppose I should thank you."

"For what?"

"For easing me back into this. I know it's not a real date, but … I don't know if I'd have been able to let another guy put his arms around me like this right now." She tucked her head back into his chest, and one of his hands came up to lightly stroke her hair. It felt so damn good.

"Dee Dee…" He just stopped there. He always seemed so earnest when he used her first name.

" _Rick_ ," she said, mocking his seriousness. "Don't worry about me. I'm really okay."

"I'm really glad," he said, and he leaned down to place a light kiss on her forehead. She stopped thinking, and recklessly did what she wanted, pulling his head down to kiss him full on the lips. The look on his face was a priceless mix of wonder and horror. She kissed him again, this time for about three seconds longer than anyone could consider just a friendly kiss. He wasn't exactly stopping her, either.

"Uh, McCall…"

"Hunter, just shut up and kiss me."

The horrified look was slowly replaced with a sly smile. "Yeah?" he said.

"Yeah."

Their next kiss was almost staggering. She'd seen Hunter in action and had always figured him to be a pretty good kisser, but he was even better than she'd imagined. Even craning her neck because he was so tall, she was perfectly content because his arms were around her, his cock was hard against her, and his tongue was in her mouth being delightfully inquisitive. In the space of about ten seconds everything between them had changed. This wasn't their usual banter or flirty touching; these were full body contact kisses, sexual and charged.

Random thoughts flitted through her head. _We can't… God, he tastes good... His hands are so big... Fabro's in the next room… Can we?... Oh my God, this is Hunter._

Jesus. Fabro really was in the next room. They were on duty. And McCall was dizzy with desire. Hunter wasn't far behind, not with the way he was kissing her, and if he held her any tighter she'd be wearing his clothes. She squirmed a little in his grasp and he loosened his hold on her. He looked a little worried. "Still a yeah?"

"Yeah," she told him. "Just give me a second." She left the warm cocoon of his arms and gave the bedroom door a soft knock. "Fabro?" She spoke at normal volume. "You sleepin', Buddy?" And she waited. No answer, no sign of movement.

Next she checked the closet in the entryway. Aha, yes. Extra pillows. She grabbed two and walked them over to the longer sofa, along with a blanket. Hunter watched with interest as she turned the volume on the radio up a little, then turned off one of the lamps to give the room a nice dim glow. "So it's a big yeah, McCall?" He was starting to sound smug.

"Guess it is." She sat on the couch and by the time she'd toed off her shoes he had flopped down next to her. "I figured it was this or a stiff neck," she said. "You're a foot taller than me."

He nodded at the radio. "And the music?"

"Fabro's trapped in there so he can't see us, but I don't want that little weasel to know anything about this."

"This, meaning…?" He gestured between the two of them in a vaguely sexual way.

She smiled. Yes, Hunter, _this_ , she thought. "This, meaning whatever might happen here that isn't standard police procedure," she said, laughing because she couldn't manage to be serious about it.

"Let's just agree right now," he said, "that from this point on, absolutely nothing will be standard police procedure." Before she could agree, he'd leaned back, hauling her on top of him and kissing the bejesus out of her, using one hand to turn her head the way he wanted, and the other to fling the blanket and a pillow on the floor. He fiddled with the other pillow, settling it under his head until he seemed comfortable. And then both of his hands were under her sweater, spanning the whole of her lower back. Big hands, long fingers … the thought of those fingers made her wet, just like that. Okay, no worries on that count, she thought. Arousal wasn't something that she'd been sure would come this easily now, but to borrow a phrase from her partner, it was working for her.

"Jesus, Dee Dee," he said, and when she pulled away from his lips and sat up, she saw his dilated pupils. He put his hands on her hips and stilled her movements, and she realized that she'd been grinding herself on his crotch. Up until now she really thought they might just have a big necking session and not let things get out of hand, but considering she'd gotten their genitals in on the act, she knew it wasn't possible.

Just to make sure, she asked. "Still a yeah?" Her voice was all breathy. She sounded sexy even to herself.

"Just consider it a yeah from here on out, McCall," he said, thrusting up a little. He was hard as a rock. "You just tell me if anything isn't a yeah for you, okay?" He reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear.

"I will..." She wiggled on him a little bit. "But so far it's a very firm yeah."

When his hands crept back under her top, she reached down and pulled it over her head. When she saw his face she was glad she'd worn a lacy bra today. "Do I get to touch these now?" he said, his hands sliding up her ribs.

"That's another yeah," she said. He pulled her down as he leaned up, and put his lips on her right through her bra. The warmth of his mouth and the scratch of lace on her nipple drew a moan from her. No wonder Hunter had so many dates. He was really good at this. He reached behind her and flicked her bra open with one hand like he was Fonzie, and then it was gone and his face was nuzzled into her breasts, both hands were on them, and he looked up at her like he was the luckiest guy in the world. Clearly, she wasn't the only one who'd had a fantasy or two about this.

She wanted to touch, too. "Sit up," she said, and when he did she dragged his t-shirt up and off. She placed a light kiss near his gunshot wound, saying a silent thank you as she did. She'd always liked his chest, but now, being able to touch it all she wanted was a treat. He was all muscle, hard beneath her hands. Scattering kisses on his neck and chest, she discovered his nipples were sensitive, if the way he tightened his hold on her and gasped was any indication.

Hunter dragged her head up to kiss her again. It was a little addictive, kissing him. Her breasts were smashed up against his chest and his strong arms wrapped around her, and it was so much better with both of them naked from the waist up. She had no idea how she was going to look across a desk at him in the squad room after this, but right now her eyes were closed and it was pure pleasure. His hand on her ass urged her to grind against him some more and God, he felt so big. She marveled at the fact that she wasn't scared, that it really was all pleasure - no pain, no panic, no flashbacks. She couldn't remember feeling this good with anyone but Steve, and that was a lifetime ago.

Everything about Hunter seemed magnified to her right now, and her body was screaming at her for more of him. Before talking herself out of it, she said it out loud: "More, Hunter."

He squeezed her ass and let loose his crooked cocky smile as he worked her nipples with his fingers. "Yeah? You want more?" His voice was rough, though. He wasn't in control any more than she was. She raised herself off him a little to snake her hand down between them and stroke him through his jeans.

"More," she said, giving him a squeeze. "I have a sneaking suspicion you're up for it." He was up, all right.

"For a while now," he laughed. "Please tell me we've gotten to the portion of the evening where our pants can come off… If that asshole wakes up and interrupts us before I get to make love to you I can't be held responsible for what might happen to him."

McCall had to clap her hand over her mouth to keep from roaring with laughter and waking said asshole. She looked at the clock. It read 9:23pm. "Pantslessness starts at nine o'clock so we're good," she said, still laughing. Hunter's hands were already at her waist, unbuttoning her pants. She had to get off him to complete the process, while he stood and shucked off his own jeans with alarming speed.

He fiddled with his wallet a moment before dropping a condom on the corner table. "I was a Boy Scout," he explained. "…Look at us, McCall. We're naked." He grinned like a loon.

"Imagine that," she said. This might have been the oddest conversation she'd ever had. "If you don't want me to laugh at you, you've gotta take those off, Hunter," she said, pointing at his white socks. What wasn't laughable was the size of his cock. She'd seen the bulge in his jeans enough times to know he was pretty big, but now that the damn thing was erect and pointing right at her, she was a bit worried. And very turned on.

She reached out and started lightly stroking him, and after about twenty seconds he put a hand on her shoulder. "I thought we weren't gonna do this standing up," he said. "I want to kiss you some more."

He sat down and pulled Dee Dee onto his lap, where she was at a perfect height to kiss him. He caressed her breasts with one hand while the other traveled down her ribs, her belly, and further until she spread her legs for him. She felt wanton doing this, as if it was somehow naughtier because it was the two of them. Maybe it was the fact they were on the clock, or that they could be interrupted at any second by Fabro, or just the fact that it was Hunter, who was both the safest and most dangerous person she knew.

One long finger slipped inside her and she was lost to sensation. He dragged his lips from hers and she let her head fall back now that it was unanchored. Bending over her, Rick sucked on her left breast like he could coax milk from it, and every time his finger slid in and out of her, his palm slid over her clitoris. So this was why half the women of L.A. were after him. He had magic hands and knew how to use them. Dee Dee was rising and falling onto his finger, helping things along, and warmth started to spread through her. She tried not to come so quickly, wanting to stretch out the anticipation, but she failed in spectacular fashion. and Hunter covered her mouth with his hand to mute her scream. She had a quick moment of panic, and instinctively slapped his hand away even as she stopped herself from making too much noise.

"Shit, I'm sorry," he said, stopping everything he was doing that had been so fantastic, leaving her feeling unsatisfied and foolish. She had a feeling that orgasm would have gone on and on if she'd only let it.

"It's okay," she whispered. "I'm okay."

"I shouldn't have put my hand..." he said, wincing. "He did that to you, didn't he? I'm so sorry," he repeated, stroking her hair. Hunter looked guilty as a criminal.

"Rick," she said, holding his face in her hands and making sure he paid attention so he'd understand. "It was just for a second and it's over. Don't let him in. Not here." She'd talked about this with Anita, the fact that her brain might set off alarms she wasn't even expecting. If they hadn't needed to be so quiet it wouldn't have been an issue at all. Hunter still seemed doubtful. "Look at me," she said. "It's just you and me, and I'm not scared of you."

She continued. "It was one second of no in a whole night of yeahs, and I want the yeahs to continue. I will control my own volume from now on." How could she make him get this? "Hunter … if you don't finish what we started, I'm going to shoot your dick off."

He chuffed a laugh at that. "If you shoot it off it'll be no good to either of us, McCall. Just promise me, _promise_ , that if you need me to stop you'll say so." He could be really sweet for a tough guy.

"Cross my heart." She reached for his left hand and put her right hand against it, palm to palm. Her fingertips reached somewhere around his lower knuckles. "If I had fingers this long I might never have to leave my house," she joked.

"If you had fingers this long you'd be in a circus sideshow," he said, and leaned in for a kiss. "Promise, Dee Dee," he whispered.

"I promise," she said, and gave him a short kiss back. "Please, Rick."

They kissed for a long time. Just kissing, hands in what would be proper places, had they been dressed: his on her waist, hers around his neck, twining her fingers in his hair. She didn't know what would happen after tonight, but if nothing else, she'd been kissed within an inch of her life by her partner. Yeah, she'd suspected he was good at it, but she never expected him to be quite so thorough. Soft kisses, deep kisses, messy kisses. She had no complaints about this at all.

She reluctantly halted the kissing to stand, so she could settle back down on Hunter's lap, straddling him now, his cock between them. Oh God. She slid herself up and down against him, wetting him with her arousal. She shouldn't do even this without a condom but she let her clitoris do the thinking for a few more strokes before reaching for the packet on the side table. She held it between their faces. "Yeah?"

"Definitely," Hunter answered, tearing the packet open.

She backed up a little to sit on his legs as he rolled the condom on. "Gonna let me drive, Hunter?"

"Yeah," he said. "It's all you, McCall." She rose up and with his cock in her hand, rubbed herself with just the head. Jesus, he felt good. "Ahhhh, yeah," he said, and shut his eyes.

She was as aroused as she'd ever been, and slid halfway down onto him before backing off and starting over. "Oh my God," she heard herself saying. "This feels … so good."

Hunter's hands were at his sides, curled into tight fists. She knew him; he'd let her do all the work unless she asked for more. "Touch me," she said, reaching for one of his hands and putting it between them.

"Volume control," he reminded her, rubbing her clit as she rose and fell and rose and fell, taking him deeper each time until he couldn't go any farther. "God, you're gorgeous," he said. "You're always gorgeous but this is beyond…." Beyond what, she didn't know, but it was a damn nice compliment since Hunter was rarely tongue-tied. He stopped talking to bend her over his arm, kissing up her chest to her neck. When he reached her earlobe, she bucked on his cock. "Yeah?" he whispered, his hot breath in her ear making things so much more intense.

"Yeah, oh yeah," she said. Someone whispering in her ear had always made her crazy.

He kept talking, quietly. "You like words, don't you, McCall? … How about dirty words?"

"Y-yes," she managed to get out. "Keep talking."

He did. Oh, he did. "Do you know how long I've wanted to fuck you?"

Oh God.

"Probably since I first saw you at the precinct … but really, the day I asked you … to be my partner. I can't tell you…" - he was breathing heavily now - "how sad I was when you stopped wearing … those hooker outfits." She'd laugh if she had any extra energy but right now it was all devoted to Hunter's cock. Up, down. Deeper, harder.

He breathed into her ear. "That same case," he said, "Bolin… remember? I burst in and found you in the bath, wearing nothing but bubbles. Jesus…" He nibbled at her earlobe and she tried not to moan.

"Did you know?" he said, still a whisper. "Did you know how much I wanted you … all this time? Wanted to slide my fingers in you, my cock, put my mouth on you, taste you?"

He was thrusting up now, so big, so good, the wet slide of him stretching her, and she was so close. "Kiss-me-right-now," she said in a rush, and he did, and after a few more thrusts, the rush of adrenaline and pleasure overtook her, and she came with a muted scream into his mouth. Hunter didn't stop, kept fucking her even when she felt like a rag doll in his arms.

"Thank … thank you…" he said, grunting, and she could hear how close he was, "…for trusting me." Dee Dee kissed him as his orgasm hit, silencing his shout this time.

For a few minutes they simply sat collapsed against one another, breathless, sweaty, and unwilling to move. She could only imagine what her mascara looked like at this point, and now the music seemed too loud and the room smelled like sex.

She cleared her throat before trying to speak, her face still buried in Hunter's neck. "I need … I have to get up," she said. He silently unclasped his arms from around her and slid those big hands all the way down her back, giving her ass a squeeze before gently lifting her off him, eliciting quiet groans from both of them. He didn't look as much the worse for wear as she felt, but his hair was sticking out in odd places and he had a stunned expression, like he'd been dropped in the middle of a country where he didn't know the language. Without his gun.

When she stood her legs felt wobbly. Picking up clothes that had been dropped randomly around the room, she tossed Hunter's on the sofa next to him. He muttered something, and started to look around, his eyes now alert. "Evidence," he said. "We have to get rid of the evidence." They had a few hours until Krewson and Longmire showed up, but that ape in the next room could wake up at any time. Hunter grabbed the condom wrapper and walked, still nude, toward the bathroom. She hadn't gotten a peek at his ass until now. Very nice, not that it was any secret that Hunter had a great ass. She'd just never seen it unclothed before. After a moment she heard the toilet flush, then the shower came on.

McCall put on her bra and panties, feeling silly doing it since she'd be in that shower in a minute herself, but feeling sillier sitting there naked. When she did sit down, she was hit with it: she and Hunter had actually made love. And the world was still turning. She had no idea what he might say or do when he left that bathroom, but on her part she felt very little in the way of regret. If she had any regrets at all, it was that it had happened here and now, and not somewhere more private without a time limit. She also felt surprisingly little guilt. None, to be exact. She'd loved it. Whether it would ever happen again or not, it had sure as hell happened tonight.

"Hey! I gotta take a piss!" Oh, Jesus. Fabro was pounding on the door from inside the bedroom. Good thing he was locked in. 

She stuck her head in the bathroom door. "Fabro's up, Hunter. Get out of there so I can get in, and stall him 'til I'm done."

"That fucker," he said, and exited the shower without turning off the water. God, he looked good wet. "Hurry up in there, McCall," he said, grabbing a towel, and she stripped and got in the shower, no longer worried about anything but getting in and out quickly.

"Check the room," she said as she stood under the spray. "See if you can find some air freshener; it smells like a brothel in there."

Even with the shower on she could hear Fabro's pounding, and Hunter bellowing at the guy. "Listen, Fabro, you get out when I let you out! The more you annoy me, the longer you wait, get it?"

Three minutes in and out, even with washing her hair. That had to be a record. Hunter was dressed already, though his hair was damp. She hurriedly pulled on her clothes as he opened a window and scoured the room, finding one of her earrings on the floor near the coffee table and handing it to her. "Let me see you," he said. He gave her a quick once-over and ran his fingers through her hair. "Not much we can do about your wet hair but you're presentable," he said. "Ready?"

"Ready," she sighed, and Hunter growled at Fabro to step back as he unlocked the bedroom door. He blocked Fabro's view of the main room, shoving him into the bathroom.

This could possibly be the worst afterglow ever. Dee Dee liked pillow talk and cuddling, not rushing around trying to erase all evidence that sex had even happened. Hunter paced in the hall until Fabro came back, and to great protest, simply pushed Fabro back in the bedroom and locked the door, ignoring the continued whining from the other side. Thankfully, Fabro shut up after a while.

Hunter sat down with a huge yawn, and she told him to just get some sleep. "No, don't worry about me, I'm not tired," he lied.

"Hunter. You're a guy." She smiled. "Men have sex, then they sleep. I'm well aware of this phenomenon. I'll stay awake."

He yawned again. "Just for a half hour. Wake me up, McCall." And he fell asleep right where he sat. She rolled her eyes and pulled a book out of her bag.

At about eleven o'clock, Fabro started pounding again, waking Hunter. McCall got up to let Fabro out to do his business, and the guy ranted and raved about what they should order him for breakfast, making even McCall look like a health food nut. The day shift could deal with his heart attack on a plate. She happily locked him back in his pigsty of a room a few minutes later.

"I'm getting real sick of that guy," Hunter said.

"Getting?" McCall said. "You were sick of him to start."

Hunter nodded. "Yeah, true." He unfolded himself from the sofa and came over to sit next to Dee Dee, pretending to yawn as he put his arm around her and pulled her close. "Not sick of you yet, though."

"Hunter!" she said, faking surprise. "who knew you were such a sweet talker?"

"Everyone," he answered, as if it was a known fact the world over.

She supposed he'd had enough practice at post-coital conversation to know what he was doing, and she smiled against him. "Not everyone, but a large percentage of the females aged twenty-five to thirty-five in Los Angeles and surrounding counties."

He turned her and held her face in his hands, tenderly, like she might break. "Hey, don't do that," he said solemnly. "You're not just a roll in the hay to me. You know that."

She stopped joking. "No? What am I?"

"I don't think there's a word for it," he said, and lightly kissed her lips. She'd seen this intensity in him plenty of times, in high stress situations, but it seemed even more heated here, just the two of them in the quiet of this hotel room, with the city a million miles away outside.

"Don't make me cry," she whispered. But the tears were in his eyes, not hers. "Rick…"

"What you are is … everything." Now he'd gone and done it. He'd made her cry. They just stared at each other for a long moment. For all her talk about not ever getting involved with another cop, the chance for more of this, more of Hunter, was a chance she was willing to take.

"If Longmire and Krewson find us like this," she said, "we'll be laughed off the force." She wiped her eyes, then swiped the tears off his cheeks, and leaned in and kissed him. "You're everything, too. Now get up, and pack up, so we can get out of here and discuss this further at my place."

Hunter just laughed. "Yeah?"

"That's a big yeah, Big Guy."

# # #


End file.
